


Battlefield

by hailingstars



Series: Febuwhump [24]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Febuwhump, Fluff, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Endgame, Recovery, Serious Injuries, Spectulation, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark's Rehabilitation Center for Fallen Superheroes, Tony gets the happy ending he deserves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 19:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17925116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailingstars/pseuds/hailingstars
Summary: Peter is badly injured on an Avenger's mission, and when he wakes up, he has no idea where he is. Also, there's a dead person sitting next to him.ORThe one where Peter finds out Tony faked his death after endgame and has been alive the last four years.





	Battlefield

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I had like thousand more years with this story before posting it, because I like the idea of Tony hiding away hurt Avengers after he retires, and also, I'm getting really nervous for Endgame.

Peter didn’t know where he was, but he knew his body ached. 

He hurt everywhere as he laid in that unknown room, hurt so bad he didn’t have the energy to be properly worried about his situation. Whoever had captured him at least had the decency to put him on a comfortable bed and hook him up to machines that kept watch over his vitals. He suspected they were also pumping him with drugs. 

He couldn’t describe it, but he felt peaceful, and safe, in a way he hadn’t in a very long time.

Peter let his eyes shifted around the dimly lit room. It was all rustic, wooden walls, a big screen TV hanging down from the ceiling, and an electric fireplace. He attempted to sit up, to see more, when he heard a voice.

“Easy kid,” it said. The voice sounded familiar in the most impossible way, in a heartbreaking way, because Peter knew it couldn’t be. 

He turned his head, slow, and saw a dead person sitting in the chair next to his bed. There was only one explanation.

“No. Not again,” said Peter. “I’m not falling for this shit again, Mysterio.”

The imposter-Mr. Stark frowned and crinkled up his face. “What the hell is a Mysterio? Please don’t tell me there’s another wizard. Strange is enough.”

“This isn’t real,” said Peter. He looked away from the imposter-Mr. Stark, tried to focus on the wall, and when that didn’t work, the fireplace.

“There’s nothing more real than this, Underoos.”

“Don’t call me that.” He meant for his voice to come out strong, and fierce, but he couldn’t help the way it cracked.

The imposter-Mr. Stark gave a long, world weary sigh, like his Mr. Stark used to do. It was an astoundingly good impression, and Peter had the suspension that it was true, that his Spidey senses weren’t tingling, that instead he had that peaceful, warm feeling he remembered from being a teenager. He couldn’t believe it, though, not yet. He’d be too devasted if he allowed himself to believe it, and it was just another lie.

“What would you prefer, then? Kid? Bud? Pete?” 

Peter forced himself to look at Mr. Stark. His brown eyes were real. Older, maybe wiser, but real. “You died. We buried you.” 

“No,” said Mr. Stark. “We just made you and the rest of the world think you did. With Fury’s help.” He stood from his chair and moved closed to Peter’s bed. It felt comfortable. It felt familiar and safe, so Peter let the tears come. “I’m sorry we lied to you too, but you already have so many secrets for someone so young. We didn't want to burden you with anything else.”

He wasn't listening. He was too busy trying to get his hand to obey him. He lifted it up, reached out and put it over Mr. Stark's. "It's really you." 

“It’s really me.” 

Mr. Stark ran a hand through Peter’s hair, and that’s when it sunk in completely. It felt like an eraser wiping out the last few years of grief, it felt like every tear he cried evaporated, like they didn’t matter anymore. They didn’t. Mr. Stark was alive. Peter was broken, but safe. It was too good to be a dream, even.  

“What is this place, Mr. Stark?” asked Peter.

He expected him to say maybe that it was heaven, that he wasn’t dead because they both were, and any minute his parents and Ben were going to walk through the door. Then he tried to shift on the bed, and the pain from his injuries flared up. Definitely not heaven. 

“My new home,” he replied. “And occasionally a rehab center for broken superheroes. Somewhere away from the world where they can heal, until they’re ready to get back out there on the battlefield.” 

He was about to ask more questions, there was so much to know, but Mr. Stark adjusted a knob on one of the machines and the pain that was anchoring him to consciousness slipped away. Mr. Stark ran his hand through Peter’s hair again. He’d forgotten how much he missed that. It was comforting, and it pulled his eyes shut.

“Rest for now, and we’ll talk when you’re awake.” 

He heard Mr. Stark sit back down in the chair, then nothing. 

* 

Peter healed fast, but for the first time since his spider-bite, he wished he didn’t. Longer heal time meant a longer stay at Mr. Stark’s rehabilitation center for the fallen superheroes, and Peter wanted all the time there he could get.

On the second day, Mr. Stark wheeled him around the cabin in a wheelchair. It was big, but not overwhelmingly big. Not Stark-like at all. There were only three rooms like the one Peter woke up in, and besides those, there wasn’t much to see in the hospital area of the cabin.

“Now you get the real tour,” he told him. He wheeled him past a large, sturdy oak door, and into what was definitely the home portion of the cabin.

It was nice, just like Peter would expect of a Stark home, but there was one thing Peter hadn’t been expecting. Mr. Stark pushed him down to a bedroom at the end of a hallway. The door was cracked open, and inside, Peter could hear the sound of a child playing.

“I want to introduce you to my daughter,” said Mr. Stark. “Your sister.”

“My s-sister?” 

Peter nudged the door all the way open with his foot as Mr. Stark pushed him the rest of the way in. In the center of the room, a little girl with wild, curly brown hair was jumping up and down, playing with superhero action figures, and wearing a cape. She turned, hearing them, and broke into a grin that pulled smiles out of both men at the doorway. 

“Hi daddy!” she said, then her eyes landed on Peter. “Are you hurt?”

Peter nodded. 

“Awesome!” She darted across the room. “That means you’ll be staying with us awhile. I meet lots of hurt people who broke their bones all over, and they always stay for a really long time.” She looked Peter up and down, accessing her new friend. “Do you wanna play superheroes with me?”

Peter smiled, thrilled to have passed her test, and nodded his head.

“Okay! But I get to be Spider-Man, cause he’s the best one!”

She raced off to get her action figures, and Peter aimed a look at Mr. Stark.

“Don’t get cocky,” he told him. “Kids say dumb shit all the time.” 

On the third day, Mr. Stark moved Peter out of the hospital area and into his home. He had a room added just for him when he had the cabin built.

“We were just waiting until you were old enough,” said Mr. Stark, as Peter looked around his room. It looked more like a small apartment, and he imagined he could spend holidays here, now that he was in on the secret. “To handle the weight of something like this.”

Peter didn’t care what the reasoning was. He was just happy to be have a place with Mr. Stark, who was alive, and happy, with a wife and a daughter.

Days passed too quickly to count after he got moved into his new bedroom. His days were routine, but amazing. He ate breakfast with the family, colored at the kitchen table with Morgan, berated Pepper about her lies both to Peter and the press all these years, and in the evening, he took walks with Mr. Stark around their property, to gain his strength back.

He got stronger each day, unfortunately, and when they made it all the way to the small creek a couple of miles away from the cabin without needing to stop for rest, Peter knew it was almost time. He’d be kicked out, shunned for his heaven, but in a way, it was right. He was starting to miss May and Ned and MJ.

Peter stood next to Mr. Stark by the creek’s edge, and watched the water rippling downstream.

“I’m gonna call Fury,” he told him. “And arrange for your transport back to the real world.” 

“No,” said Peter. “No. Not yet, please. I don’t want to go.”

The words brought a grimace to Mr. Stark’s face. “You can come back. Maybe for Christmas? I want you and Morgan to spend more time together.”

That wasn’t good enough. Christmas was too far away.

“I missed you so much,” said Peter. “One week isn’t long enough.” 

Mr. Stark sighed. “I guess I can hold off calling him. Just one more week. The world needs Spider-Man, after all.”

“Yeah,” said Peter, with a grin. “He’s the best one.” 

Mr. Stark laughed, but he didn’t argue. He must have been getting softer in his old age, or maybe Morgan was making him that way, because it hadn’t required nearly as much convincing as Peter thought it would.

“I missed you too, Pete,” he said. He put his arm around him. “And I’m so glad you’re home.”

“I’m glad you’re not dead.” 

“Well, I will be dead if we’re not back at the cabin in time to watch Morgan so Pepper can take her bath,” he said, after checking his watch. He steered Peter back in the other direction, and he was more than capable of handling the walk back to the cabin by himself, but he let Mr. Stark help him anyway.

It was right, and the world was right, and Peter was home.


End file.
